


Question of Time

by msgenevieve



Category: La Femme Nikita
Genre: F/M, Het, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-12-21
Updated: 1998-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/pseuds/msgenevieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Michael has seven days in which to stop the Gelman process from changing Nikita forever.  He is a desperate man, and a desperate man in desperate times calls for desperate actions.</i>  Contains spoilers for "Into the Looking Glass" and dialogue that does not belong to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Question of Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first piece of fan fiction I ever wrote. I have taken the liberty of removing the songfic elements (*facepalms) but the title and the theme remains inspired by Depeche Mode's "Question of Time".

~*~

 

_He had done it._

Perhaps now that voice crying out in his head, in his heart, the voice that had been with him every waking moment for the last two months, would be silenced. The voice that commanded him to keep going, to keep trying, to keep her.

He had done it.

Exhaustion. Every muscle in his body ached, he swore that he could feel his very bones burning. His body had been repeatedly crying out for respite from the constant physical and emotional strain that he had been putting it through. He shifted slightly where he was lying... it wasn't the most comfortable position he'd ever been in, but he would die before he released what was in his arms.

That sigh. Did that come from his lips, from his heart? Not too long ago he would have thought himself incapable of uttering such a contented sound. The past two months had been a nightmare that he still could not believe he had awakened from. The past two days had been sheer torture, both for him and the woman he loved.

He had watched her go through the withdrawal from Gelman's maintenance drugs, feeling her pain, guilt wracking his own body. Lying here now, he winced inwardly as he remembered the anguished pleas, the begging to be allowed to return to Section. How could he have let them do this to her? How could he have let this happen? How did he stand by and watch her suffer so? How did he remain focused on the end result when she was right in front of him, weeping and begging to be returned to Section, to Gelman's drugs? I had to do it. He had forced himself to focus on the end game. Giving Nikita back her soul.

Time had been running out ~ he was a desperate man prepared to take desperate risks. He had one week to bring Nikita back from whatever hell Madeleine and Operations had cast her down into. And he had. Calling in every favour, threatening, bribing... pleading. He had killed many, but he did not regret the passing of their lives. His own life meant nothing to him if she was not with him. His pain at what had been done to her was lessened by his growing awareness that he was not alone in his pain. So many offered their help at risk to their own lives. He smiled to himself as he pondered the fact that Birkoff was becoming quite accomplished at covering his tracks.

He had been running on empty...no sleep, no respite, no peace. And now he was wrapped in the arms of the most incredible woman he had ever known. They had made love as though it was their first time together, but it had been enriched with such a wealth of erotic knowledge that the memory of it made his head swim. He felt his pulse quicken as he recalled the first touch of her body against his after so long, her eyes glazed with passion as he forced her to remember how he could make her feel.

In the face of the unknown fate that awaited them when they returned to Section, he felt - peaceful. The feeling of contentment was so achingly unexpected that he felt tears pricking his eyes. When was the last time he'd felt at peace? He turned his thoughts away from the path they were leading down. The past was just that... the past. He now held his future in his arms.

 

~*~

 

_Six hours earlier_

 

He couldn't seem to hear the roar of the motorcycle he was riding... the only sound registering was the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears. His temple ached from the blow that Nikita had delivered with the butt of the gun she had not been able to fire at him. It seemed ludicrous, but it was at that moment ­ her staring at him with her blue eyes so tortured, trembling, unable to pull the trigger ­ that he knew that they were nearly there. Forty-eight hours earlier she would have shot him between the eyes and walked away without a backward glance. Pained as he was to see the anguished conflict in her eyes, he was glad to see it there.

His breath caught in his throat when he spotted her. Their remote location meant that there was only one public telephone box within a five-mile radius and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks as he caught sight of a flash of blonde hair. She stood hunched over, her back to him... she was gripping the public telephone receiver so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"Please, Michael!"

Her voice cracked with pain and more than a little sorrow. "I want to go back to Section. I need the drugs". The words sliced into him, allowing a single fierce thought to break free, a truth demanding finally to be acknowledged.

_I need you more._

He forced himself to stay calm, letting his voice reach out to caress her. "In a few days you won't need them any more." She would not look at him, and he fought back the rising panic knotting his gut. "Hang up, Nikita".

_So this is what it comes down to. I have one minute to convince you of something that I haven't been able to make you believe in five years. I love you. I would die for you. My life is worth less than nothing if you are not in it. Look at me, Nikita... please, look at me._

He saw her head bow, as if contemplating his words and reached out for her. He felt her body tremble as he laid his hand gently on her shoulder. The shivering was no longer just from the pain of withdrawal ~ she was reacting to his hand on her shoulder. His blood started to hum in his ears, feeling the heat of her skin through the leather of his glove. He might never know if his touch was what pushed her back over the edge towards him... all he knew was that she hung up the phone and reached for him instead.

"What have they done to me?!" She was angry, weeping, lashing out, all tangled hair and rumpled clothes, and he had never seen a more beautiful woman in all his life. Michael clamped down on his own pain, letting her take out her anger and frustation physically, first on the telephone and then himself. He longed to pull her against him, hard, and shake her until she came to her senses. He wanted to comfort and conquer her in the same heartbeat. His heart was breaking for her. _Let me help you._

"What have they done to me?" Her angry words had faded into little more than a sorrowed question. Her hands were warm against his chest, the heat spreading through him, his body instantly aware of her proximity. He berated himself for succumbing to such thoughts. Focus on the mission. How many times had he told her that? He ached to hold her. It had been so long. For two months he had looked into her eyes and known that she was gone. What if she spurned his touch? _I don't love you any more._ His gut churned as the memory slammed into him. He reached for her, his hand curling around the back of her head, as if to cradle her fevered thoughts. For a few achingly tense seconds, her body remained rigid in his arms, before he felt her slump against him, her hands still beating a tattoo of anger against his chest.

Suddenly she was in his arms, her body racked with dry sobs. He pulled her to him, leaning their combined weight on the motorcycle. Almost in disbelief, he touched his lips to her temple. Michael closed his eyes as he felt her skin, warm beneath his mouth. His heart was racing, a combination of adrenalin and rising desire. Pulling back slightly to study her, he could tell that she was having a hard time staying on her feet, the lingering pain of withdrawal evident in her pale face. Not willing to relinquish his hold on her, even for a second, he manouevred her into position behind him on the bike, pulling her arms around his waist. He gunned the engine, not quite believing what had just transpired. _It's happening. She's coming back._

 

~*~

 

The journey back to the cabin on his motorcycle was silent. So many words and feelings were bubbling up inside of his chest, but he could not burden her with his need now. She was still so fragile, both emotionally and physically. He had been without her for so many months... been lonely for her on so many levels. But he would not rush her. If he succeeding in reversing the damage that had been done to her mind, he would have his Nikita back. He could wait. For the moment, he was concentrating on getting them back to the cabin in one piece, no mean feat when a tingling awareness of her, pressed so close against his back, was seeping through every pore in his body.

He sensed that she was only barely staying awake, her arms gradually going slack around his waist. With the cabin in sight, she slumped suddenly to one side. Cursing softly, he slowed the bike, then reached behind him with one arm to steady her. _Motorcycle accident. That's all I need._ Thankful that she'd managed to stay conscious as long as she had, he concentrated on the last 200 yards, trying to ignore the feeling of her hip beneath his splayed fingers.

Silence engulfed him as he turned off the engine. Easing himself off his seat, he carefully peeled Nikita's arms away from his torso. She had lapsed into unconsciousness, her closed lids twitching with visions and nightmares he wished he could erase. Michael gently lifted her from the bike and carried her back into the main room of the cabin. He eyed the now-ruined chair wryly. _I guess I won't be using that one again._ He sat her down gingerly on a rather ancient looking easy chair, and brushed some pale strands back from her face. Quickly, he ducked into the small room that passed for a bathroom, and moistened a small hand towel with cold water, unconsciously keeping one eye on the woman in the other room. He didn't think that she would try to escape again, but until he could look into her eyes and recognise the woman that he'd been addicted to since that first meeting in the White Room, he could not relax. The battle within her was still raging, and he needed to think, to regroup his energies. He had to help her defeat the demons, the substance cravings, the confusion, and he had to do it now.

He walked quietly back to her side and looked down at her. Her clothes were dirty, her hair tangled, her pale face streaked with tears and dust. _My poor love, what this world has put you through._ He sponged her face thoroughly but gently, making sure not to wake her. He looked at her hair and realised that there would be no way to get a brush through that mane without causing her pain. That could wait. Michael took Nikita's hands in his, and turned them over. His heart ached at the sight of her reddened wrists, rubbed raw from the hours spent handcuffed to that chair. How could he have done that to her? Michael bent his head and gently kissed each wrist in turn, silently pleading with her.

_Please forgive me._

He considered the clothing situation for a moment, then retrieved a sleeveless black shirt from his backpack. He eased her long-sleeved top up and over her head, her arms momentarily getting caught in the sleeves. He smiled suddenly, thinking with a pang that it was not unlike trying to get Adam to bed when he was half-asleep. Michael clamped down on the sudden ache that shot through his chest. Just focus on what you're doing. He managed to remove Nikita's dusty shirt, and allowed himself a few seconds to just look at her. He had seen her wearing less in a clothes store dressing-room not two weeks before and he had felt nothing, only regret and pain. Now, it was an effort to tear his eyes away.

Michael reached around her back, only hesitating a second or so before unhooking her black sports bra. She'll be more comfortable, he argued with himself. In his defence, the manoeuvre certainly wasn't increasing hislevel of comfort. An involuntary shiver ran through Nikita's frame as his warm fingertips brushed her spine and Michael's groin tightened in response. He quickly pulled the worn but clean shirt over her head before any more less-than-honorable thoughts came into his head. His hand ached to caress her, his mouth craved the taste of her skin. He could wait. All good things come to those who wait, don't they? Michael's eyes narrowed as he watched her lips, slightly open in sleep, his gaze skimming down to the shadowy outline of her breasts beneath the thin black material of her shirt. Patience was a virtue of which he was rapidly growing very weary.

 

~*~

 

Hours passed.

How long had he been sitting there, watching her sleep? The rapid motions under her blue veined eyelids had quietened, and she had finally stopped tossing and turning as she lay in the quarantine nexus chamber. Michael stood and stretched the cramped muscles in his legs and back, grimaced slightly as he did so. Definitely should have requisitioned a better couch. He had been so intent on his surveillance, both of their surroundings and of Nikita, that he was startled to see that four hours had passed. It had grown quite dark outside, and the spartan room seemed to grow more unwelcoming as the gloom enveloped it. He walked around the room, flicking on one of the two lamps that were there. He found himself checking the perimeter of the building continuously, his nervous energy relieved to find an outlet for itself. This _waiting_, after so much urgency was a hard transition to make. Michael knew that he had to let Nikita sleep, to let her enjoy that natural sanctuary from the demons that were fighting for control of her soul. He would have to be content with just watching over her until she awoke. _Still, that doesn't mean I have to watch over her from afar, does it?_

After a final sweep of the building and its surrounds, ge knelt beside her sleeping face, separated from her only by the thin mesh walls of the resonance chamber. He cautiously lifted one end of the chamber's structure, and held it up high enough for him to duck under the wire edging. He held his breath as Nshe shifted in her sleep, murmuring words too soft for him to hear. Michael edged his way quietly to the head of the mattress, feeling the anxiety of anticipation claw at his stomach. He wanted her to wake up, he needed her to wake up. Michael reached out a hand to touch her face, and hesitated. What if my Nikita still hasn't returned? What if she awoke, and looked at him with arctic blue eyes that had watched innocents die and did not care? Michael couldn't finish the thought. _This is cowardice. How can she still reduce me to this mass of emotion?_ He took a deep breath, and reached out for her.

He lightly touched her temples with his fingertips. She stirred gently but did not wake. Emboldened, he slid his fingers across her scalp, threading them through the tangled blonde hair. Unconsciously, he started a gentle massaging motion, his thumbs gently pressing at the back of her neck. She sighed softly, eyelids fluttering. He eased his hands out of her hair, stroking her head tenderly. Nikita's eyes flew open, the clear blue startling him after so many hours of watching her sleep. She seemed disorientated at first, shifting her head around trying to get her bearings. Is she searching for me? Michael waited, and after what seemed like an eternity, their eyes met. He was almost afraid to met her gaze, not wanting to know what he would find. Blue eyes contemplated green for almost ten seconds in silence, and then he felt it. That tug in his chest that he hadn't felt since the Genefex mission. The pull towards her that he spent so many years trying to fight, and now was fighting for. He looked into the eyes of the woman that he loved. He saw fear. He saw confusion. He saw pain.

He saw _Nikita_.

 

~*~

 

"I slept". The husky sound of her voice caused the tiny hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Those two words had more emotion in them than any speeches she had directed at him during the last two months.

"Yes, a little". He reached down and resumed his light massaging of her temples. She craned her neck back to meet his eyes. She wiped her hand across her eyes.

"There's still pain." He could hear the tears in her voice.

"It'll go away." He didn't trust himself to say any more. _Trust me. The worst is over._ His heartbeat seemed to be keeping pace with his thoughts, his pulse thudding in his ears.

"When?"

He could hardly bear to hear the sadness in her voice. "When you let it go, Nikita." He allowed her name to become a caress as he uttered it. He continued to massage her scalp and temples but he could no longer bear not to be closer to her. He bent forward and brushed his lips against her cheek just near the corner of her mouth, her skin warm under his touch.

"Michael." His name sounded like an entreaty from her cracked lips. "I love you"

Her words crashed into him, his breath suddenly caught in his throat. He could almost feel the waves of emotion bursting from her, the words tumbling out as though they were lines that she'd been trying to remember in a play, the relief at finally remembering and uttering them almost overwhelming her. The answering joy he felt coursing through him was nearly too much for him to bear.

This was no act for the cameras, no repeat of the Armel mission. That was the only time she had ever said those words to him. Memory came rushing back. It was part of the mission profile. Her words were for the cameras. _Were they? You said them back to her. Were your words only for the cameras as well?_ The tunnel-vision that had been his state of mind for the past nine weeks suddenly shattered. And all he could see was her. It was as though the pain of all the years in Section, the guilt that was his constant companion, the knowledge that he had brought about so much hurt and misunderstanding between them had just come pouring out of him in a rush of release.

It was all he could do to stop himself from pinning her down and making love to her until there wasn't a thought in her head that didn't include him. But still he held back. She had seen enough violence in the last two months. His hands trembled; he couldn't believe how nervous he felt. _Some valentine operative_, he thought ironically.

_She loves me_, was his last coherent thought as he rained urgent kisses on her face. He was leaning over her, his hands sliding over her abdomen and hips. He caught his breath as she raised her hands, seeking to touch him. Her cool fingers seared his upper arms, briefly caressing the bandage on his injured bicep. He met her eyes, and saw tears of shame welling up. Any words of comfort that he might have spoken caught in his throat as he saw the love and remorse in her eyes. _Oh my love, don't be sorry. I would have taken a dozen bullets if it meant I could be here with you now._

Michael's world had shrunk to this enclosed space, and the woman who lay crying beneath him. His kisses had turned into slow open mouth tastings of her face and neck. The feeling of her skin under his hands and mouth was something that he had come to believe he would never experience again, and he wanted to savour every sensation that her proximity was causing to his nervous system. His arousal jerked as his arm brushed the side of her breast and he took a deep breath. _Patience._ This has to be for her more than for me. His hands slid down her stomach once more, gently tugging the material of her shirt up, exposing the muscles of her abdomen to his questing fingers and warm mouth. He felt her jump as his hand moved up her ribcage to rest just beneath the curve of her left breast. He could feel her heart thumping beneath his hand, and hear her breath becoming ragged. He looked down at her, his gazed travelling from her half-closed eyes to her parted mouth. His groin tightened as memories flashed through his mind; that beautiful mouth smiling as it was wrapped around him, those eyes on his filled with complete love and trust.

_Enough._ He moved quickly to one side of her, all the time his hands continuing their slow exploration of her torso. Michael bent his head and touched his lips to hers, opening his mouth slightly, her lips following where he lead. He closed his eyes, and slid his tongue slowly between her lips, at the same brushing his rough thumb over a tight nipple. Nikita gasped soundlessly, and curling her left hand around his neck, pulled his mouth harder against hers, entwining her tongue forcefully around his. The spark of arousal flared, his body crying out in recognition of her kiss.

He broke away to move his head back, and take her face in his hands, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt or conflict. He saw only desire and love burning in the pure blue of her eyes, and his spirit soared. Still holding her gaze, he kissed her again, a searing open-mouthed assault that had her head reeling back and her eyes closing instantly, much to his satisfaction. Her hands were clutching, seeking. He captured them and held them tightly, breaking off the kiss once more. Her eyes snapped open, wordlessly questioning him. Michael smiled a languid smile. _Now it's your turn to wait._

 

~*~

 

She moaned as his mouth trailed from the side of her face to her neck, nipping at her ear lobe on its way. The rough stubble on his chin met the sensitive skin behind her ear, and he felt her nipples hardening in response, her flesh shivering. He slid his mouth down to her collarbone, pulling the neck of her shirt down and running his tongue along the smooth skin, biting down gently. _There are no cameras here_, Michael thought again. No Section eyes watching them. Just the two of them alone, and he was burning from the inside out with his desire for her.

"Trust me", he whispered to her, his warm breath in her ear sending another shiver across her skin.

Her eyes caught his and held for several seconds.

"I do". Their gaze held until, seeming flustered, Nikita looked down at their entwined hands, Michael's thumbs caressing the backs of her knuckles tenderly.

He gave her a quick hard kiss, biting quickly on her bottom lip before leaning back and letting go of her hands. Before she could react, he rolled her onto her stomach, his hands caressing her arms and shoulders the entire time. It was no longer enough to be just sitting beside her. _I have to feel her against me._ He lowered himself onto the mattress, his body half-covering hers. If she thought to voice a protest he gave her no opportunity, as he had captured her mouth again in a heated kiss that threatened to shatter his hard-won control. It would have been perhaps a brutal kiss if it didn't have the weight of his love behind it. She gasped for breath as her mouth was briefly freed, his hands leaving her suddenly. She twisted around, trying to look over her shoulder for him. A smile curved her mouth - the first real smile he'd seen in months - as she felt his hands at the waistband of her trousers, slowly sliding his fingers between the material and her skin. She inhaled softly as he began to slide her trousers and underwear down over her hips, and he had to bite down on a groan as she lifted up her hips to assist him, a thousand sensual images flashing through his mind.

He knelt over her, his legs straddling hers, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he fought for control. He had quickly removed his clothing before helping her remove her trousers, and being this close to her after so long without her touch was pure torture. The feeling of the smooth skin of her long legs pressed up against his inner thighs had pushed him over the edge. He ran his hands up the back of her legs, briefly caressing the backs of her knees, smiling with satisfaction as a shudder ran through her body. His smile became tense as her shifting thighs brushed against his arousal. God! All he wanted to do was bury himself inside her and forget the pain of the last two months.

His hands continued their relentless exploration, ignoring her mute appeals for respite from the sensuous assault. He cupped her bottom in his hands, abandoning any pretence of self-control. His erection brushed against her, causing her to twist and look over her shoulder at him. A purely feminine smile of satisfaction curved her mouth, and Michael felt himself grow even harder, closing his eyes in welcome torment. He trailed his hands up her spine, stroking her heated flesh under the sleeveless shirt, which he suddenly gripped in his hands and pulled over Nikita's head. _Felt better taking it off than it did putting it on_, he smirked to himself.

With no barriers between them now, he slid his body up her back, his nipples hardening as they brushed against her skin. The feeling of her lying beneath him took his breath away. Through the haze of his desire, he heard her gasp as his heated flesh came into contact with hers. He bent his head to her neck and trailed biting kisses down to her shoulder. He could see that she was biting her lower lip, a flush creeping across her pale skin. She suddenly pushed upwards on her elbows, straining to maintain full body contact with him. He moaned and slipped his hands under her to cup her breasts. He took her hard nipples between a thumb and a finger and applied gentle pressure. She flung her head back against his shoulder, her head turning, eyes closed, blindly seeking his mouth.

They kissed urgently, tongues dancing as he ground his hips against her, his hands no longer gentle on her breasts as a sense of abandonment came over him. The rush of physical and emotional sensation raging through him was almost too much to bear. He took a deep breath and rested his head on her shoulder, his arms trying to take most of the weight of his body. He pressed his lips to the base of her neck, rubbing his stubble against the sensitive skin and watching the resulting goosebumps with a smile of pure masculine pride.

_Mine._ He frowned slightly as he thought of the months she'd spent away from him. A recurring doubt niggled in the back of his mind...had she gone on valentine missions? Michael forced his mind away from a path that would only lead to pain. He had not been able to access any intel regarding her movements during the time that she had been gone from Section following the Genefex mission, and he was suddenly grateful. He was already tortured by his imaginings and had no desire to have his fears confirmed. Nevertheless, his caresses unconciously took on a air of 'reclaiming what was his'. He had no wish to analyse his feelings too deeply, all he knew was that he wanted to imprint himself so deeply onto Nikita's soul that the connection between them could never be broken again. He needed to do this for both of them. Michael had finally admitted the obvious.

He was as much her captive as she was his.

 

~*~

 

"Michael, I love you".

He looked at her and she was beautiful. Face flushed, hair tumbling about her shoulders, eyes half-lidded with passion, lips swollen from his kisses. He groaned and reached for her again, his teeth nipping at her neck and back. His hands lifted Nikita's hips up slightly, nudging her thighs apart with his. She cried out as Michael pulled her buttocks back against his aching erection, raising her hips to meet him. He slipped one finger, then two into the sleek warmth between her legs, enjoying the spasm that shook her. _Oh God, I can't wait any longer._ Nikita was more than ready for him, his fingers now slick with the evidence of her desire.

He lifted her hips even higher, her hand reaching under her body to guide him. Some perverse part of him wanted to make this moment last, to savour the erotic anticipation. Then the tip of his shaft brushed against the small curls between her thighs and he was lost. Neither of them noticed his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he joined their bodies, Michael sliding into her in one swift motion. A shudder ripped through Michael's body at the feeling of her around him, so hot and tight. He blinked back the unexpected tears that hotly pricked his eyes, the love he felt for her welling up inside his chest.

"Michael?" Nikita's voice broke the silence. He looked up and saw Nikita looking over her shoulder, dryly raising a questioning eyebrow with a small smile. It was a gesture so typical of her true self that he almost let the tears come. Instead, he lowered himself down onto her body, taking his weight on his knees and hands, and slowly started a sensual thrusting circle with his hips. He didn't know why he was making love to her this way; it just seemed right. God knows, it _felt_ right. Michael buried his face in the crook of Nikita's neck as he felt her pushing herself back against him. He was losing control with every thrust, ridiculously feeling as though he might black out before his release came.

The silence between them was erotic, their laboured breathing the only sounds. The smallest things aroused him. The sheen of perspiration on Nikita's back, her hands clenching the sheet, the curve of her neck. He reach a hand down under her body, seeking and finding.

"God, Michael!" The words flew out of Nikita's mouth as he curled his finger inside her. She writhed beneath him as he felt the tension building in her body, and he shifted slightly, pulling her harder against him, revelling in the small, almost whimpering noise that came from her.

"Nikita..." He swallowed the sighed word as she jerked back hard against him, taking his shaft even deeper into her. Twisting her upper body around, she flung a hand back, trying to touch him. He moved his hands up her body, sliding them down her arms, leaning forward so that she could grasp his hands in hers. Nikita gripped them tightly, tilting her head back against his shoulder as he placed hot biting kisses down her back, soothing the marks that he was making on her pale skin with his tongue. _God, I don't want to hurt her, but I feel as though I could climb into her skin and I still wouldn't be close enough to her._ He felt out of control, almost savage with his need for her. Disentangling his hands from hers, he moved them to span her breasts quickly, almost roughly. The weight of her breasts in his hands, her distended nipples growing harder beneath his palms, his slick shaft sliding harder and faster into her warm depths, her buttocks pushing back against his groin, it was too much.

"Come for me." The soft whisper hung in the air, and he was amazed to feel the answering tension in her thighs as they strained beneath his. He bit down on the corded muscle in her arched neck, moving his teeth up and down the silky skin. One hand caressed her heat, two fingers reaching inside to press on the swollen bud inside. He felt the start of the tremors through her frame, her hands fisting the sheet beneath her, her breathing shallow and erratic. He thrust into her hard and fast, moving his hands back to her hips to grind her against him. Her whole body tensed, and it was as though for a split second they were both still, waiting for her release to crash over her. She cried out as she pushed up towards him, her eyes closed tightly as the power of her orgasm overwhelmed her. He gripped her hard, as her climax tightened and hotly spasmed around him, ripping any last shred of control from him. Seconds later, he gasped out her name, his shaft pulsing wildly as he emptied himself into her, shuddering as the nerve-endings throughout his entire body prickled and sparked.

His limbs feeling like water, he lowered himself shakily to the mattress, his body still half-covering hers. She turned on her side to face him as he shifted his head closer to hers, his cheek brushing against hers in a rough caress. His breathing gradually returning to normal, he ran one hand lazily down her back, his fingers lightly caressing, touching, soothing. His heart was still racing, the blood pounding in his ears. He was exhausted, and he had to fight against the urge to close his eyes and slip into the sleep that beckoned him. Their sexual connection had been incredible, but there were so many words still left unspoken between them. Lying next to her now, watching a contented exhaustion stealing over her, he wasn't sure that he could trust his voice.

"I've missed you. Very much". Her eyes glittered with tears as he brushed the blonde strands back from her flushed face and thought again that he had never seen a more beautiful sight in all his life.

"I hurt you-" Her hesitant words were halted as he placed his thumb over her parted lips, the gesture quickly becoming erotic as her teeth gently bit down on the fleshy pad. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her mouth, sliding one hand around the back of her neck. Her eyes closed as his tongue outlined her bottom lip, his teeth gently biting down. He moaned softly deep in his chest as her tongue slid between his lips, dueling with his tongue and exploring his mouth leisurely. Their lips parting, he caught her gaze with his, his green eyes burning into hers the love that he'd tried so hard to hide from Section, from Elena, from Nikita herself. She was alive. She was whole again. She loved him. He trailed soft kisses from the corner of her mouth to her jaw, rasping his beard against her cheek, noting with satisfaction the tightening of her nipples in response. He gently bit her warm earlobe, and with his softly spoken words, sought to relieve her lingering feelings of shame and guilt.

"It's alright. I understand."

 

~*~

 

He woke with a start. For a moment, the darkness and the weight across his body as he lay on his back was disorientating. Something had woken him, warm contact jerking him from sleep. He lazily reached down with his hand and touched silky, though tangled, hair, a smooth shoulder, the skin warm under his fingers.

_Nikita._

She seemed to be dreaming, her hands grasping at the air, her legs moving against his. She quietened as he stroked the side of her face, trailing his fingertips across the planes of the arresting face that had haunted his dreams every day since their first volatile meeting. Her eyes opened slowly, and he could see the same confusion that he had experienced briefly cloud her eyes, clearing as she registered her surroundings.

He slipped his arm under her body and rolled onto his side, taking her with him. He had the same feeling that had driven his actions during their lovemaking... he couldn't seem to hold her close enough. As he pulled herflush against him, his body instantly reacted to her closeness, his erection pressing against her. He buried his face in Nikita's neck as he felt, rather than heard her throaty chuckle, as she rubbed against him, obviously enjoying the rush of power that his reaction gave her. Her nipples were hard against his chest, and he could feel her heart beating next to his. She was a perfect fit in his arms, her head cradled on his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around him. The feelings washing over him made what he had to say all the more difficult.

"We can't stay here". His voice was husky with sleep.

"I know". The resigned weariness in her voice tore at his heart.

"We have to be stronger than them." Even as he said the words, he pictured them in his mind, and the anger flared.

He felt Nikita sigh, heard the tears in her voice. "I'd rather die than go back now."

Panic clawed at Michael's stomach. He moved slightly back, taking Nikita's tearstained face between his hands.

"Don't say that." His eyes frantically searched her face, trying to see where her thoughts were heading.

"Why?" She sounded so weary, so tired of fighting.

Their eyes locked, hers questioning, his suddenly hesitant.

_Tell her. She needs to know. Give her one good reason why she should bother to go on living._ He'd said the words so many times before, on valentine missions, to the wives that Section had given him and then taken away again, to the son he would never see again. He'd said them so many times that to say them now, here, to her, would not mean enough to him. Michael stroked the side of her face gently.

"Because I can't live without you." The tremor in his voice sounded embarrassing in his ears, but Nikita didn't seem to hear it. A shaky smile curled her mouth, the clear blue eyes searching his own and finding only the truth of his words there. Michael watched her as she leant forward and softly pressed her lips to his before deepening the kiss. Michael could taste the salt of her tears on her mouth, and with a low groan, pulled her back against him. Nikita buried her head in the crook of his neck again, her breath warm on his skin. He felt her mouth curl in a smile against him as he finally let out the sigh of relief that he hadn't even realised he had been holding in.

_Sequence complete_, he thought vaguely as he at last allowed sleep to claim him.

 

~*~

 

Michael stood behind Birkoff, his calm demeanour concealing the churning thoughts racing through his mind. Nikita had been debriefing with Madeline for twenty-five minutes. Debriefing? More like an interrogation. He thought of their arrival back in Section. Nikita had been trying to hide her nervousness, trying to get her feelings towards the Section heads they were about to face under control. She had done admirably well. Michael's stomach had clenched when he heard Nikita speaking to Operations in the flat emotionless voice that he had come to dread over the past months.

When the other operatives had brought in the captured targets, they had cut a path between the four figures standing outside van access. Madeline and Operations on one side, he facing them with Nikita standing at his shoulder. Madeline's dark eyes had slowly moved from her study of Nikita to meet his. Grateful that what Nikita had once called his 'patented blank stare' had prevented her from seeing into his thoughts, Michael returned her gaze with an air of unconcerned calm that he was far from feeling.

Stalemate. He knew then that Madeline had picked up on the subtle impression of 'togetherness' that he and Nikita had made. He had been powerless to stop it; their renewed bond was obviously too strong. Angry with himself, he had walked away quickly after Operations had finished his spiel, hoping to put some distance between Nikita and himself. For her own sake. For both of their sakes.

 

~*~

 

_Finally_. Nikita was walking between work stations, the direction that she had come from indicating that she'd just left Madeline's office. Michael studied her surreptitiously. His eyes drank her in, her beauty astounding him anew. She was walking with an unhurried gait, her expression blank, her eyes empty of any emotion. There was nothing about her demeanour to distinguish her from the Nikita that he had taken by force from her temporary quarters three days ago. An insidious worm of fear curled into his mind. He had left her alone at Genefex for less time than she had just been with Madeline. Cold dread gripped his heart as he watched her move towards her Section quarters. She had not once looked in his direction, even though he knew she had seen him.

From his vantage point at Birkoff's desk, he quickly calculated the path that Nikita was taking through Section, leaving Comm in enough time to be walking beside her five seconds later, heading in the direction of his office. He matched his stride to hers without missing a beat.

He glanced over at her. "Did you read the sim?" His voice contained no hint of the emotions he had betrayed only hours earlier. His hands ached to reach out and tangle themselves in that silky hair, his lips clamouring to feel her mouth shivering beneath his.

"Twice". She did not look at him. Her flat unhurried speech caused another jolt of panicked doubt in his chest. He forced himself to walk on calmly. She's only acting for them. It's not possible. She came back to me.

"We leave in an hour". Look at me, Nikita... please.

They had almost come to a halt. Nikita altered her path, crossing slightly in front of him to leave him at the door of his office. Moving past her, Michael unobtrusively held out his hand, palm up, slightly raised next to his thigh. Please. He closed his eyes, opening them again abruptly as he felt Nikita's warm hand brush his, the length of her palm sliding sensously against his. Her short fingernails caressed briefly, before her fingers trailed lingeringly over his, their fingertips finally parting reluctantly. The contact could not have lasted more than two seconds before they were both walking in different directions, but it was one of the most erotic gestures he'd ever experienced.

Michael closed the door to his office and leaned back against it, the relief surging through his body making his legs suddenly weak. Admiration for Nikita's acting abilities mingled with apprehension as he thought of Madeline's dark eyes that missed nothing. She's not going to be fooled for long. At that moment however, the realisation of what he had accomplished still coursing through him, he did not care. Michael casually walked over and closed the thin blinds, before disabling the surveillance. Easing himself into his chair, he rested his elbows on his desk and closed his eyes for a moment. Heated sensual memories from his most recent private mission flickered behind his eyelids but he managed to push them aside for the moment. He could savour them at his leisure later, away from the prying eyes of Section. For now... a small smile quirked the side of his usually serious mouth as a litany beat in his heart.

He had done it.

 

~*~


End file.
